


Breaking Points

by elirwen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Blood and Torture, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Drowning, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Flogging, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic Suppression, Strangulation, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/pseuds/elirwen
Summary: His magic bound, their captors ruthless in their torture, Merlin needs to find a way to get both Arthur and himself to freedom.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 112
Collections: Merthur Glompfest 2020





	Breaking Points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broken_fannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [broken_fannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/pseuds/broken_fannibal) in the [Merthur_Glompfest_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merthur_Glompfest_2020) collection. 



> Dear broken_fannibal, I can't apologize enough for not being able to fulfill your prompt on time. The past few weeks were not treating me well and my writing suffered for it, therefore I was able to finish only the first part of the story. I'm really really sorry about that.
> 
> I hope you won't mind that I changed one aspect of the prompt to make it work better for the story. I will be more faithful to the prompt in the next (most likely two) chapters.

“Never.” Merlin’s voice is resolute, not giving away any pain he’s currently feeling.

“Is that so?” the man who still hasn’t bothered to introduce himself says. “Then you won’t mind if we keep trying.”

At his nod the two men tighten their grip on his shoulders and a sorcerer who also hasn’t bothered to share his name steps close once again. The crystal in his hand pulses with dark energy, not weakened in the least by its previous use. No amount of bracing could prepare Merlin for the onslaught of pain and horrible imagery invading his mind the moment the crystal touches the bare skin on his chest. It lasts longer than the first time and he knows he failed to keep the agonized whimpers from escaping this time. 

“Get away from him!” he hears Arthur’s yelling and the list of colourful profanities that follow.

The agony stops and he slumps forward. He would slide to the ground if the two men didn’t keep holding him in the kneeling position. 

Arthur’s yells turn into incoherent muffled sounds. Someone gagged him Merlin notes when he gathers enough strength to lift his head and glance in Arthur’s direction.

“Still unwilling to cooperate?” the leader of the group asks.

Merlin doesn’t waste his breath on him, just glares.

“Again,” the leader orders.

***

Merlin slides to the ground, unable to stay up now that the men are no longer holding him. He barely manages to soften his landing with his hands, avoiding a cracked skull at least. His vision is blurry from the tears and from the pounding headache that settled in after the fifth round of torture. His muscles ache, abused by long minutes of tension and painful spasms. His whole body feels battered and bruised even though he wasn’t subjected to any physical violence. Each breath drawn is a struggle, but he revels in the momentary freedom from the excruciating agony. 

He tries to draw energy from the earth, to recharge himself at least a bit, but his magic remains unresponsive, locked away by the iron collar secured around his neck. He knows he can break through the bindings given enough time but not like this, not while being tortured, his energy depleted. 

“I think it’s time to try something different,” the leader say, lounging in a chair, appearing extremely bored. “Maybe we should give the king some attention too. He has been quite vocal about taking your place after all. Let’s fulfill his wish.”

“No, don’t,” Merlin says, his voice hoarse.

“Is that all I needed to do? Threaten the king? Will you do what I asked you to do now?”

Merlin looks at Arthur and he knows. He knows what Arthur would tell him if he could speak. He wouldn’t even need to look at his face to know, but it’s all there in Arthur’s expression. ‘Don’t you dare,’ his eyes say. ‘I can handle it,’ his posture says.

“No?” the leader asks. “Are you absolutely sure?” he taunts him. “They won’t be gentle about it.”

“You’re playing with fire,” Merlin says, pouring his hatred into the words. “You can still let us go and I will let you live.”

The man laughs.

“Start with a bit of tenderizing.”

***

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, gently skimming his fingers along Arthur’s face, pushing his hair, dark with sweat, off his forehead.

He gets a groan in response. 

When the thugs dragged them towards the dungeon, Merlin feared they would end up separated in different cells but they were tossed into a cell together. Most likely they want him to see Arthur’s suffering, to make him stew in his own guilt. Little do they know that they granted him a chance to ease Arthur’s pain by their attempt at mental manipulation. 

He settles his palm in the middle of Arthur’s chest, closes his eyes, concentrates. He wills his magic to squeeze through the miniscule tear in the magic suppressing field. It’s not much, just a tiny tendril, but he lets it sink under Arthur’s skin, giving a bit of a boost to Arthur’s natural healing. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Arthur says, awareness returning to him.

“I hope I won’t get to witness what you’d consider to be bad,” Merlin says, gently lifting Arthur’s hand for inspection.

He traces the angry red welts on Arthur’s arm, on the back of his hand, then on his palm, letting his magic ease the aches, his mind reverberating with the remembered sounds of the cane hitting Arthur’s skin, of the hitching of Arthur’s breath as he fought the waves of pain. 

“Can you free yourself?” Arthur asks, linking his fingers with Merlin’s loosely when he’s done with his other hand.

“No, not yet,” Merlin says with a sigh. “The tear is tiny, not enough for battle magic.”

Arthur shifts on the thin straw mattress so that he lies on his side, the freshly vacated space an open invitation.

“I should…” Merlin starts.

“Get some rest,” Arthur finishes for him.

“We need…”

“Strength to get through the next day,” Arthur interrupts him again. “And can’t you see I’m cold?”

Even in his state of exhaustion and worry Arthur’s words make him smile and he gives in, lies down, covering them both with a threadbare blanket. Arthur snuggles closer and Merlin melts into the embrace, not fighting it when sleep comes to claim him.

***

He can’t stop his reaction when one of the torturers pulls out a dagger and drags its tip over the skin on Arthur’s neck. The ropes with which he’s tied to a chair won’t let him move more than an inch, digging into his wrists, his chest, his neck. He quickly eases back to not strangle himself, tries to rein in his terror.

They tied Arthur to a table this time, shirtless, barefoot, his arms and legs pulled towards the corners of the desk, fastened there securely, not giving him any room to move. While they abstained from breaking his skin the day before, it’s unlikely they will follow the same rule today.

The man moves the tip of the dagger down from Arthur’s neck to his chest and further down to his stomach. He’s trying to play with Arthur’s nerves, letting the anticipation and fear build. If Arthur is feeling any of that, he doesn’t let it show. 

When the man finally places his first real cut, it’s thin and shallow, blood slowly oozing out and trickling down the side of Arthur’s arm. More cuts follow, then more on the other arm. Arthur groans in pain for the first time as the dagger slices into the skin over his ribcage, his breathing heavy as his torso becomes the centre of attention for the skilled torturer. 

Satisfied with his work, the man sets the dagger aside and comes back with a small pot of what turns out to be salt. He sprinkles it over the open wounds, making Arthur trash in his bindings in a futile attempt to evade the searing pain, then rubs more in, opening the half-closed cuts to add to Arthur’s agony.

Merlin’s eyes sting with tears of frustration. He pushes and prods at the tiny pinprick of a tear in the magic suppressing field, but it doesn’t budge. Brute force is not a way to go in this case, but he can’t concentrate to work on dismantling it properly.

“It’s fully in your power to stop his suffering,” the leader says from where he’s once again sprawled in a chair as he watches the show, enjoying a selection of meat and cheese coupled with wine.

To add insult to injury, Merlin’s stomach growls. They haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.

“All I want is an unbreakable vow of fealty,” the man continues. “I’d even let you keep him as a pet.”

“Yes, an unbreakable vow and handing over the kingdom, such minor request,” Merlin mutters. 

“I see. You’re getting bored,” the man says, gesturing for his sorcerer to step forward. “Don’t hold back.”

The sorcerer presses the crystal to Merlin’s forehead. Then all he knows is pain.

*

They get tossed on the floor of their cell. Merlin’s head is pounding, his whole body sore. Arthur is barely conscious, pale from pain and blood loss.

For long minutes they simply lie on the cold stones, filling the small space with heavy sound of their breathing.

“We’ll be fine,” Arthur mumbles, shifting his hand until it covers Merlin’s. 

“Yes, we will,” Merlin whispers back even though he can’t make himself believe it right at that moment. 

The door to the cell clang open.

“How adorable,” one of the two guards entering says, the other snorting in amusement.

They set down a pail and a platter with something that might be edible.

“Only the best for our royal guests,” the second guard says as they leave, sniggering to themselves. 

Merlin forces himself to sit and crawls on his hands and knees towards their provisions. He finds a wooden cup floating in the pail half full of water, quickly fills it and drinks, the water soothing his parched throat. He fills the cup again and brings it to Arthur who only just dragged himself into a seated position. He looks about ready to keel over but manages to drink without spilling a single drop of the precious liquid. 

“I’ll get you more, but let’s get you to bed first,” Merlin says. 

“You like me in bed,” Arthur says, exhausted but still trying for a grin.

“As if you could do anything but lie down,” Merlin says.

“Sometimes that’s all you let me do.” 

Merlin huffs out a sharp laugh

“Come now,” he says, helping Arthur move towards the pallet.

“That’s what you tell me at those times too,” Arthur mumbles, trying to distract them both from the dreary reality.

***

They drink their fill and eat the dry bread, then press close together under the thin blanket. Arthur doesn’t have his shirt anymore so the night will be even colder for him than the one before. Merlin lets his magic bleed through the tiny gap in the suppression field, willing it to help Arthur heal, to keep them warm, at least a bit.

He works on widening the tear to get more power, fighting sleep as long as he can. He can feel the first tinglings of his dragonlord power teasing him with possibility of calling for help, but it’s not enough, and he’s so tired. Too tired. He loses his fight and sleeps.

***

The moment Merlin sees the expression on the leader’s face he knows they’re running out of time. He’s proven to be right as without any command spoken Arthur is dragged towards a flogging stand, his arms pulled up and tied to the wooden frame, while Merlin is once again secured to a chair. 

“Begin,” is all the leader says.

Merlin closes his eyes. He concentrates on his dragonlord power, reaching into himself and out, sending a blind distress call to his dragon kin. The sound of the whip hitting Arthur’s skin, of Arthur’s sharp cries, pushes him to try even harder, even though he has no way of knowing if his call can escape past the tight bubble of the suppression field. 

Someone grabs him under his chin and wrenches his head up, his skull hitting the wood, his concentration momentarily scattered. 

“Open your eyes!” the leader growls, his hand sliding lower to his neck. “Look at his suffering.”

Merlin doesn’t mean to obey, but his eyes flew open at the sudden attack, and now he can’t look away, paralysed by the sight of Arthur struggling to stand, his back already a bloodied mess. 

“No,” he gasps out, straining against the bindings.

The leader tightens his grip on Merlin’s neck, partially blocking Merlin’s air supply. 

“Another twenty,” he orders.

The whip sails through the air, its sound sharp as ever while Arthur’s cries wane together with his strength. His knees buckle by the twelfth strike and he doesn’t have enough time to recover before the next hit to even try to push himself up.

“You’ll kill him,” Merlin wheezes, tears spilling down his cheeks, both because of the sight before him and the lack of air. 

“Do you think I care,” the leader shouts, his right hand pressing even harder against Merlin’s neck, the other covering Merlin’s nose and mouth.

Merlin fights his bindings in a futile attempt to free himself, to breathe again, but they don’t budge. Black spots begin entering his vision and his body betrays him, his movements turning sluggish, his mind foggy.

Then the pressure on his neck eases. His nose and mouth are no longer covered. He gulps in frantic breaths of air. 

“I was trying to be patient, but I’m not a patient man,” the leader grits out. 

He cuts Merlin’s bindings and tosses him on the floor, straddles his legs and wrenches his arms behind his back, tying them together at the wrists. He delivers a few well aimed punches to Merlin’s kidneys, leaving him a sobbing mess on the floor while he stands up. 

Two of his men pull Merlin to his feet, dragging him across the room towards a tub of water. Dread settles into Merlin’s stomach as he tries to wrench himself free.

“Ten more and leave him there,” he hears the leader say, followed by the sound of the whip, but then his head is forced under the water and held there. 

He struggles and kicks out, but it only earns him a few more punches to his kidneys that make him suck water into his lungs.

He’s wrenched out of the water and given just enough time to cough it out of his lungs and gulp in a few breaths before he’s forced back under. When they pull him out next, they let him slide to the floor where he promptly heaves out the watery contents of his stomach. The simple act of breathing has never felt so precious. 

Far too soon he’s being manhandled into standing position. His whole body is shaking from the stress it was put under, but he tries to ignore that and focuses on the suppression field. 

He needs to get free.

“Cut him down and fuck him,” the leader commands.

“No! Don’t touch him!” Merlin shouts but doesn’t get any time to struggle as he’s being tossed into the tub and held in place by the two brutes while the leader climbs in after him. 

“Submit and I’ll tell them to be gentle,” he says with an ugly sneer.

“Never,” Merlin spits out.

“As you wish.”

Hands close around Merlin’s throat and he’s pushed under water. He grows weaker much faster than before, his trashing mostly symbolic as exhaustion weighs his limbs down.

Back above the surface for a few blissful inhales and below again, the leader kneeling above him, pressing him further down, punching him in the ribs. Then it’s up again to breathe.

“Submit!” he hears and shakes his head, his heart breaking as he manages to get a glimpse of Arthur being roughly bent over a table, his trousers shoved down his legs, and then he’s forced back under the water’s surface.

This is it. This is how it ends. What a terrible way to go. 

And Arthur… Oh gods, Arthur!

He needs to get free now!

There’s no air in his lungs, no strength in his limbs, but he has to try. He has to give it his everything.

He gathers all the power at his disposal and rams it into the tear in the suppression field.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](elirwen.tumblr.com)


End file.
